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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694815">Sweet Release</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyAestheticUsername/pseuds/EdgyAestheticUsername'>EdgyAestheticUsername</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gordon out of the HEV what self-care will he commit [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half-Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's very slight), Gordon no that's not what the crowbar is for, M/M, Mute Gordon Freeman, Panic Attacks, fuck the hev suit all my homies hate the hev suit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:36:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyAestheticUsername/pseuds/EdgyAestheticUsername</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon is finally given some time to clean himself up, and get out of the HEV suit for a while. However, that proves to be much more of a challenge, considering no one even explained to him how to take it off by himself. Luckily Barney, ever helpful and kind to the good doctor, is willing to lend a hand or two.</p><p>...This was going to be longer and go more in-depth with Barney being tender helping Gordon clean and patch up. This felt like it was dragging on, though, so I might write a part two if folks want it bad enough :p</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gordon out of the HEV what self-care will he commit [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet Release</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gordon is mute, and therefore, when he signs, it's in [brackets] like so :&gt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Well, here we are! Welcome to your temporary digs, Doc. V-I-P treatment and everything.” Barney chimes as he pushes a rotting wooden door open. He leaves room in the doorway for Gordon, clad in the HEV suit still, to step past him, clanking as he does as his crowbar hits his armored thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The physicist surveys the space with wide, careful eyes, his hand hovering over the holster containing his handgun. It was a bedroom at some point. Clearly still meant to be, but the only bed it contains is an old mattress on the floor. There are blankets neatly laid out on it, along with two flat pillows. No bedframe, but there is an old nightstand with a lamp on top of it. The lamp doesn’t have a shade, but that’s fine, he decides. He takes a few wary steps in, eyeing the closet on the far wall and the bathroom door next to it. He glances at Barney, gestures to the closet and starts toward the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barney just chuckles. “It’s safe, Doc, I promise. You saw the security downstairs, you said it was good. I promise it’s alright.” Despite these words, he follows Gordon, opening the closet to make sure it’s empty. It is, completely devoid of even a bar to hang things from. Barney closes the door again. “Nothing in here, how ‘bout the bathroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon holds up a hand as he steps into that room, looking around. Old porcelain bathtub, toilet, cracked mirror, dirty sink… The cabinet doors are missing, there’s a lumpy bar of what he guesses is soap on the holder above the bathtub, as well as a small bottle no bigger than a travel-size of shampoo. Actually, it just might be shampoo, he concludes. Miraculously, there’s still a shower curtain hanging from the rod above the tub. His search confirms that there is not, in fact, anyone else in the room. He turns back to Barney. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Satisfied?” The guard asks, raising a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon hesitates, then nods. He doesn’t get any less tense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barney smiles. “Good, mind if I hang out for a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon smiles back, if slightly less, and nods again [Good company.] He signs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aww, I’m flattered.” Barney bats his eyelashes, then drops on the floor next to the mattress. “There’s runnin’ water here, you should go get that thing off and wash up while we got the chance.” He gestures back to the bathroom. “It ain’t warm, but it’s somethin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon, for a moment, wants to argue, but decides not to. It may actually be good for him, mentally and physically. [Sounds like a plan.] That said, he begins to shed his weapons onto the bedside table. Holster and crowbar off his belt, shotgun and machine gun off his back, pouch of bug bait off the other side of his belt, along with the revolver…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he finishes, he feels much lighter, and… vulnerable. In any case, Barney has all of his weapons and ammo, and he trusts the man to protect them both long enough for him to jump back in his armor. He pauses… Then takes the crowbar up again. Just in case. Barney spares him a confused glance, but doesn’t stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns and goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. His weapon gets set against the wall next to the door, in reach if he needs it, but otherwise out of the way. He sighs, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink and looking in the mirror. He’s smeared with dirt, some dried blood, and the HEV suit itself isn’t much better. He knows he’s sweaty and greasy, he hasn’t had the chance to properly wash himself since he put the damn thing on, at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>five days ago by now. He sighs deeper and pulls his now stringy hair free of the short ponytail he’s been keeping it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Gordon is tired. He looks it, he feels it straight down to his bones. He stopped feeling the weight of the suit long ago, but right now, it’s pressing back in, making his shoulders ache. While he’s thinking about it, the undersuit isn’t all that comfortable, either. The material is thick, somewhat compressive. It’s rough too, and all of a sudden he’s very aware of the way it’s pressing in on him at every joint, at every stretch and making it harder to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard to breathe, and he needs the suit off </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right this instant. He scrambles to find the clasps for his chest piece with gloved hands. He barely finds them under a metal lip of the suit and almost right up against his sides. He decides to go for the one on his left first, trying as hard as he can to pry it apart, to force it away from himself and get the damn thing undone. His fingers slip a few times and he stops to try and pull the gloves off. They won’t give, they’re attached to the undersuit. A horrible design, really. He switches back to the latch, not trying to work the one on his right side. It has to come off. It has to! There has to be a way to pry this damn thing off himself, he-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon freezes. His gaze slowly slides to where he’s left the crowbar. That could work. He reaches for the tool, for once using it for its intended purpose; prying something apart. He backs up from the sink, against the wall to give himself some room to try and position the tool in a way that he can actually use it to pop the clasp on his right side. It’s awkward, and the way he has to reach to keep it steady makes it just that much harder to try and put pressure on it. He’s barely got it against the lip, digging it in a little more briefly. He shifts, right arm now wrapped around the crowbar while he uses the left to adjust the position. Yes, okay, this is good, this could work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts to pull the crowbar, and it slips. That leaves his arm at an odd angle, twisted behind him in a way that really isn’t comfortable with the armor on. He grunts, and moves to try again on the other side. That earns him the same result, though that time it was just a little harder to navigate. He huffs. Back to the right. Same result, same failure. Gordon grits his teeth and lets the weapon fall to the ground with a clank. His fingers are back against the chest clasp, the clasps on his arms, anything, anything that will give, this thing needs to come </span>
  <em>
    <span>off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it needs to come off </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> or he’s going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking suffocate-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knock at the door. “Hey Gordon? Gimme a few knocks if you’re okay in there.” Barney calls just on the other side. Gordon instantly knocks back. He can do this, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he just needs to get the fucking HEV suit off. “Oookay, just make some more noise if ya need me.” Barney adds, and Gordon catches his footsteps moving away from the door again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right, back to the clasps. Maybe the ones on the torso are just more stubborn. He bends down, searching for the ones on his left leg. There has to be a release for his thighs, at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he’s going to find it if it kills him. And maybe with all the toxic waste he’s been wading through, they’ve rusted away enough for him to get them off, and from there, the boots and then the torso will be easier, because he’s done it before and-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right there!</span>
  </em>
  <span> His fingers catch on the seam of the metal on his inner thigh and for a moment, he thinks that the clasp will be there. But no, that’s stupid, and also not where the clasp is. He stands back up, arms out partially to look down at hi own body as best he can. His breathing is already picking up, and he can feel panic setting into his chest. He blinks at his own fear-stricken reflection in the mirror for a moment. He makes a noise somewhere between a growl of frustration and a whine, starting to search his leg again. At the back of his knee, he finally feels something that might be holding the huge metal boot onto the rest of the tin can, giving it an experimental tug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the pressure around his leg suddenly releases with it, and Gordon finds himself beaming with glee. He lifts up his foot and shakes it, feeling the boot come loose. He practically folds himself in half as he reaches down to remove it, but because it is made of metal, there’s almost no give as he struggles to free his foot. He hops, just slightly, to try and keep his balance, then fails as he gives a firm pull. The boot comes off, but he falls backward, arms flying out to catch something. He ends up just flailing, though, and the shower curtain comes down with him. It pulls off of all its plastic rings, making a familiar awful noise as it does, and drapes around him. At the same time, his head hits something hard, causing his vision to blot out slightly. THe metal HEV suit clatters against the porcelain, and the next thing he knows, Barney is untangling him from the shower curtain and asking what happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>[Say again…?] Gordon signs shakily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said what were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doin’</span>
  </em>
  <span> in here, Gordon? You coulda gotten hurt real bad!” Barney exclaims, reaching for his arm. He gets his hands around it and manages to heave Gordon up, slipping close and wrapping his arms around his middle in one smooth move. Even with the HEV suit, it’s easy for him to get Gordon back on his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>[Sorry…] Gordon says, suddenly less desperate and more embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barney’s turn to huff. “It’s okay, just… You coulda asked for help, you know. Do you want my help gettin’ outta that thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Gordon nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, hold still.” Barney instructs. He reaches for the chestplate, but instead of going straight for the clasps, he reaches into the underside of the front panel with his index fingers. Something clicks on one side, then the other, and suddenly the whole torso releases. The speaker hidden somewhere in the front panel crackles to life briefly, announcing that said piece has been released, before it dies back down. Gordon gasps, his hands landing on Barney’s shoulders to keep balance again. Barney grabs him back, chuckling. “Easy, darlin’, I gotcha. Can I let go? I’ll take it off ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon quickly nods, steadying himself. His hands still hover over Barney’s arms, just in case. The shoulders of the suit pull inward most of the way, making it much easier for Barney to lift the whole piece up and over Gordon’s head. He sets it aside and without asking, he starts to undo the buckles at his shoulders holding on the top part of the armored front. It starts to fall away, Barney letting the piece rest against him as he finds another pair of releases at the front of Gordon’s hips. The buttons click, and Gordon’s legs almost give out as his thighs are finally released. Barney seems to take notice, pulling Gordon into him to keep him steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep ya up if you can get those pieces off, Gordy.” The guard offers, gently patting Gordon’s back. Gordon nods weakly, managing to reach down and pull the pieces apart. They, too, get discarded with the chestplate. “Okay, I think I can have ya sit down now. The rest should come off easy as pie.” That being said, Barney gently guides him to sit in the lid of the toilet, letting Gordon lean back some. He’s already starting to reach for the zipper on the back of the undersuit, Barney making quick work of first the boot Gordon hadn’t gotten to yet, then the pieces protecting his shins. Barney stands back up, hands on his hips, looking Gordon over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geeze, Doc, you look like Hell without that thing…” He mumbles. “Let’s get you back up, can ya do that?” He questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can he? Gordon has his suit mostly unzipped by now, but his head feels like it’s full of cotton. He pushes up to his feet, unsteady, and suddenly much, much shorter. He’s no longer looking Barney in the eye, and falls into his chest as he starts to lose balance again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, alright… Easy now…” Barney bites his lip, glancing from Gordon to the bathtub. “Alrighy, this is gonna be tough, but… we can manage. I can help you wash up if you want, Gordon, but only if you’re comfortable.” He offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon nods hesitantly. As much as he hates it, he can’t manage this one task on his own, not in this state. Barney nods with him, then starts the process of stripping the body suit off of him as well. Gordon can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, either. He just wants to be clean, and get help and after, maybe have a nap while Barney keeps watch.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fun fact; The working title for this one was "kleiner skipped the tutorial that fucker"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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